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I’ve met several people who accept and embrace me as I am, however most people I’ve encountered either in person or online have tried in some fashion or another to sacrifice myself, my ideals and my dreams to be that, which makes them more comfortable, or else, fulfills some selfish needs, desires or fetishes they may have. I am no one’s prize, project or toy, nor am I some evil, twisted deviant as most people choose to think of me as.
I’ve spent too much of my life, changing to try to become that, which people desire me to be. I’ve turned my back on art because (certain) members of my family told me that I am not marketable. I’ve turned my back on creative writing because my cousin, whom I was living with at the time threw out my original drafts, saying I was waiting my time. I’ve given up on furthering my education because I haven’t the funding and resources, and because I have no direction; I have only my dreams and dreams don’t pay the bills, I was always told.
My dreams were, as it turns out, the only things keeping me sane and healthy.
After 34 years of being told no, of being told I’m wrong, of being told that I’m false or that I’m a freak or that I’m broken and beyond repair, I’ve come to the conclusion that I can’t be who and what (most) people expect me to be, while wearing a painted smile to mask the pain, scars and shattered dreams.
This journey I’m taking is hard. I’m poor, I’m (virtually) friendless and alone, and I’m navigating my life in the dark without a compass or flashlight. But, you know what? Sometimes, the only way to find what one seeks, one need only turn off the lights and open one’s eyes.
I am now only meeting myself for the first time. I don’t always like her. Sometimes, I really resent her. Other times, she surprises me.
I can’t make or expect anyone else see who I see; especially once they’ve made up their minds that what they see: the mask, the shell, the facade is true. All I can do is be me. And, I’m choosing to be the best “me” that I can possibly be.
